


Everytime We Touch

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Dancing, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, myspace au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux wouldn’t be lamenting this if he weren’t trying to ignore the bass thumping in his thoracic cavity, and he wouldn’t <i>be</i> at this ridiculous excuse for a concert if he weren’t positive Kylo would inevitably pull stitches— and Kylo wouldn’t <i>have</i> stitches if Hux hadn’t lacerated his lower trapezius.</p><p>So, like most of Hux’s problems, he found it’s really his own damn fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everytime We Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [porcelain_cats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelain_cats/gifts).



> I'm still sad from [Rotenburg](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7543492/chapters/17152924), so I'm gonna play in Horatio's sandbox until I'm better.
> 
> Based on a [suggestion of Sailershanty's about Kylo dragging Hux to a rave,](http://horatiosroom.tumblr.com/post/142828270469/imagine-the-boys-listening-to-terrible-remixes-of) and an experience I had at one. Raver girls are literally the best.
> 
>  
> 
> [Everytime We Touch by Cascada](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjdIZZDta6o)

For a given number of days since Hux had admitted their relationship, Kylo would be weeks ahead in terms of milestones. When they should have barely been passing the awkward phase, Kylo had beaded a bracelet with Hux’s name, and sworn he’d die for Hux before even meeting his parents. He wanted to chalk it up as a scene queen eccentricity, but Hux hadn’t really discouraged it. He’d fingered one of Kylo’s wounds before he’d fingered  _ him _ .

Therein was the problem: Hux wouldn’t be lamenting this if he weren’t trying to ignore the bass thumping in his thoracic cavity, and he wouldn’t  _ be _ at this ridiculous excuse for a concert if he weren’t positive Kylo would inevitably pull stitches— and Kylo wouldn’t  _ have _ stitches if Hux hadn’t lacerated his lower trapezius.

So, like most of Hux’s problems, he found it’s really his own damn fault.

It was hard to spot Kylo across the expanse of undulating bodies— because they’re all dressed in equally as much colour— but his height gave him away. He was, at least for the moment, taking it easy, and shied from the electronica equivalent of a mosh pit to trade kandi. There was a highly ritualized process to the act— he’d discovered the first time he’d witnessed it— involving a secret handshake and excessive hugging.

Hux startled as a nearby circle of acquaintances had taken to jumping up and down. The right corner of his mouth had been twitching since he chose a parking space, but it spread to his right eye. He realized a moment too late how much like a wink that looked, because a girl wearing little more than beads and furry leg warmers was waving at him. Hux pulled off his glasses, put his head down, and pressed at the orbicularis oculi.

There’s a distinct clack pony beads make when they line someone’s arms up to the elbows, and it was coming from right in front of him. Hux wiped his glasses before he put them back on, as some tenuous method of procrastination. She waited, unfortunately.

“Hiii!” she said, in a way that made Hux fairly certain she spelled it with an A.

Hux shook his head, to cover a spasm that had overtaken the entire right hemisphere of his face. “That wasn’t directed at you.”

The beads on her faux-surgical mask must have been phosphorescent, because Hux had very intentionally tucked himself into the darkest portion of the event hall, and they still glowed neon. It hardly muffled her voice as she speculated, “You tweaking?”

“ _ What? _ ”

She leaned toward his ear, let her voice compete with the music. “Tweaking, you know? Speed? You’re twitching like crazy, super sweaty, look like you’re terrified of everybody.”

Of course he’s sweating; he’s in a turtleneck, surrounded by people performing vigorous aerobics— most of which are standing far too close. He wasn’t appropriately dressed because he hadn’t planned to come inside. He hadn’t planned to care so goddamn much.

“You need like, some water, or something? Isn’t that the big methhead problem, not getting enough water?”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I’m not a drug addict,” Hux snapped, but his hand shook so violently when he gestured, he quickly withdrew, and diverted his attention to the crowd. Kylo was nowhere to be found— and out of the corner of his eye, he was fairly certain the rave girl was frowning under all that plastic. “Leave me alone…”

She took his hand, and that must have been the most shocking part of all, because Hux couldn’t remember the last time someone held his hand other than Kylo— not even his mother (though he assumed she must have, at some point; his memory just didn’t extend that far into his childhood). Her eyes looked even bigger than Kylo’s— though Hux suspected that’s the makeup. “Let’s dance.”

Hux didn’t—  _ couldn’t _ — dance, didn’t want any of these junkies and skanks touching him,  _ didn’t want to be here. _ What he said, staring uncomprehendingly at their joined hands and hating how sweaty and shaky his seemed in comparison, was, “I’m here with someone.”

“We’ll go find her.”

The pull at the corner of Hux’s upper lip is almost intentional. “ _ Him. _ ”

She didn’t miss a beat, “Then I’m sure he’ll cut in. Come on.”

Hux was dragged into the flashing light and bouncing bodies, bass throbbing sickly in his stomach.

The crowd parted for her, politely, and trailing behind her helplessly, Hux found a particular interest in the mole just above the string band of her bikini. That’s about where Ren’s third stitch sat. She turned, hand still in his, and swayed her hips, eyes pinched in a joyful way. Hux stood awkwardly, attempting to reclaim his hand and failing. The raver girl squeezed, and swung in time with her hips.

“Just do what I do,” she said, and Hux felt very silly. She took his other hand, swung both of them, and it was difficult at that point not to move with it.

“There you go!” she giggled, and Hux didn’t know what she meant, but she wasn’t holding his hands anymore, and he was still moving back and forth.

“What do I do?” Hux asked, a little frantically.

“Whatever!” rave girl replied, switching from a sway to a stomp, and threw her hands up, which Hux copied. No one could see them shaking up there. As a matter of fact, no one could notice his shaking at all.

She took one of his hands, and stilled them. He could feel her heartbeat in the webbing between their fingers, and the thought excited him: that just by holding hands— a perfectly acceptable public display of affection— he could feel one of Kylo’s autonomic functions any time he wanted.

“You don’t have any kandi,” rave girl explained, looking over her collection. She took a single strand, two black beads to every turquoise, and stretched it to slip over her others.

Hux yanked back before she could transfer it to his hand. “That’s  _ really _ my boyfriend’s thing.”

Her painted-thin brows furrowed. “That’s not very PLUR of you.”

He wasn’t expecting to be heard over the music, but of course the song changed right as he said, “I’m not very PLUR in general…”

“Hey,” she started, a little hesitantly, but the beginnings of that one Cascada song drowned her out. She leaned into his ear instead. “What’s your boyfriend look like?”

Particularly Lisa Frank that night, with the tiger-stripe pink-to-blue skinny jeans and an unnecessarily tight white T-shirt with a neon rainbow bisecting it diagonally. “Ridiculous.”

“So does everyone else,” she laughed. Rave girl smiled, and held out the bracelet again. “Take it. To remember me by.”

He hesitated, and she took that opportunity to stretch it over his hand. All of Hux’s spasming muscles tensed when she hugged him, and she was immediately weaving her way closer to the DJ. Hux was sweating, awkward, nauseous from the volume— but he wasn’t shaking.

He jumped when a hand came to his hip, spat, “Doesn’t anyone here ask before touching people!?

Kylo smiled. “No.”

Hux had never been so happy to see such a stupid haircut. He glanced him over for blood smears from ripped stitches, and found an entirely different set of bracelets from the ones he came in with, and a number written on his forearm in what was undoubtedly RoseArt washable. There was a quick, distant pang of jealously when he recognized the handwriting as distinctly feminine, but he counted up the digits for a Myspace ID, and went about retucking his shirt.

“Have fun?” Kylo teased with a knowing nod to the bracelet on his pale wrist.

Hux tore it off and shoved it at his significant other. “ _ I _ certainly don’t want it.”

“You don’t give away a trade, that’s so not PLUR.”

Hux stared incredulously. “You’re a fucking conformist, you know that?”

“Fuck you,” Kylo retorted fondly, rolled the kandi back onto Hux’s wrist, and wrapped him in his thick arms. They rocked side to side, Hux stiff, but steady.

“This isn’t how you dance to EDM.”

“Yes it is.”

Reluctantly, Hux acquiesced to the gesture, skimmed his palms up Kylo’s back until he felt the bump of thread under the thin fabric. At least two of them were missing, but Hux didn’t mention it.


End file.
